I Was A Different Person Yesterday, You See
by Jedi Buttercup
Summary: "I have all the clocks of every resident of Underland who ever was, and ever will be; yet now I have one too many," Time told Hatter. "It seems to me that if I am to make a place for its history here, I must send another's future back to Alice's world in return." [Post-Through the Looking Glass]


**Title** : I Was A Different Person Yesterday, You See

 **Author** : Jedi Buttercup

 **Rating** : PG/K+

 **Disclaimer** : The words are mine; the worlds are not.

 **Summary** : _"I have all the clocks of every resident of Underland who ever was, and ever will be; yet now I have one too many," Time told Hatter. "It seems to me that if I am to make a place for its history here, I must send another's future back to Alice's world in return."_. 1400w.

 **Spoilers** : Alice Through The Looking Glass (2016)

 **Notes** : This bit of Hatter's POV practically punched me in the face, fully formed, immediately after watching the movie. Also, FYI: the answer to the riddle is the one Lewis Carroll himself proposed in the 1897 final revision of Alice's Adventures. :). Originally posted to LJ on May 30, 2016.

* * *

Perhaps it was no longer always one minute until tea-time, but the Hatter found he was still appreciative of a good cup. Particularly now that so many of the other seats at the table could be filled... when they didn't all have other business to pursue, of course. Besides, he'd spent so much of his life waiting for either his family or Alice; he wasn't quite sure what else to do now that he need do neither. There were only so many hats the Queens could wear at one time, after all.

He was nibbling at a second Unbirthday scone, pondering a white strand that had pushed its way into his hair that afternoon when he'd absently laid out a place for the Alice who was actually Alice but Alice of Underland nevermore, when Time in all his tuneful ticking sat down at the end of the table. Time's attention was fixed on a battered timepiece dangling from his hand, eyes as steadily blue as Cheshire's stripes; not the end of the world again, then. A shame; it seemed as though it had been ever so long since Tarrant's last adventure.

Time closed up the watch, brushing a thumb over an inscription Tarrant couldn't quite read, then looked up and smiled. The curve of his mouth was a little crooked; but that was all to the good, as had it been otherwise it would quite have spoiled Tarrant's last impression of him as one of Alice's favourite people, whatever the exigencies of his nature.

"I thought they said that one can never get Time back! And yet here you are!" he grinned. "Have you come for tea, this time? Because I'm all out of Alices, you know."

"I know. Her ticks aren't mine to track; she comes from a world that quite thinks of Time as an arrow," Time replied, clucking his tongue. "An arrow! As if a bow could be made that would shoot Me; or as though she who spent Me so wouldn't regret my flight more than he to whom I was given."

"Quite," Tarrant nodded, licking the last of the cream from his fingers. "Though they do say time only flies when one is in the place one is meant to be."

"Ah? And do I fly for you, here?" Time replied archly, glancing around the empty seats at the table.

Which was all of them, that day, even Mallymkun and Thackery's; the kingdom was quite busy, what with Mirana and Iracebeth's reconciliation. The sisters were making an attempt at co-rule; Tarrant hadn't yet been asked to measure for a new crown, but he thought the Red Queen's cranium seemed one size smaller already. Perhaps she'd asked his father instead; the family had gone right back into business now that they were all their proper sizes again, and they _did_ have history.

Tarrant lifted bushy brows and took another sip of his tea. "If you have come to bring me perspective, I have quite enough already, thank you."

"No; I have come to bring you something else altogether," Time replied. He tucked the worn watch back into a pocket of his waistcoat- then pulled out another, much livelier timepiece, all shining glass and spinning gears. He lifted it by its chain, turning it so that it showed off the name inscribed on its case: Tarrant Hightopp.

"You want me to be in charge of my _own_ time? But what if I waste it?" the Hatter replied, staring wide-eyed at the hypnotic object.

"Ah, but I'm only wasted if I'm regretted afterward," Time tsk'ed, waving an admonishing finger. "I have all the clocks of every resident of Underland who ever was, and ever will be; yet now I have one too many. It seems to Me that if I am to make a place for Charles Kingsleigh's history here, I must send another's future back to Alice's world in return."

"You mean- _my_ future? I would belong with Alice?" Tarrant caught his breath; his hair fairly crackled under the brim of his hat at the thought, and when he patted absently to settle it the white streak seemed to have entirely disappeared.

Time raised a critical eyebrow. "I thought the whole trouble was that you belonged to each other already? That she'd taken some of your muchness with her; as she'd left some of hers in safe-keeping with you."

Tarrant thought of the prospect of being always Alice-adjacent; of having adventures in her world, as she'd had in his. He'd met her in Underland five times: the day of the blue paper hat, that he hadn't remembered until so very recently; the day Iracebeth's crown had broken, on the first day of that endless tea party; the day she'd finally arrived again, before time and behind time all at once; the Frabjous Day, when she'd set them all free from the Jabberwock; and the most recent day, when he'd got what he'd always wanted, only to have to let go what he feared he always _would_ want, all at once.

For a moment, he felt very much muchier than usual: Alice always arrived without a hat, she must have been very much deprived of them in that other world, and a life without her seemed very bareheaded to him indeed- but then the blue glow of Time's expectant eyes drew his notice to them, as imperious as Cheshire's could be when he wanted one's full attention.

"But what about my family?" he had to ask. When he'd lacked both his family and Alice, he'd nearly faded away; and it seemed ever so wearing to go on with only one or the other, now.

"There's no rule saying you can't visit them; I daresay Alice will be able to show you the way," Time sniffed. "But it hardly seems fair that she has always had to be the one to come to _you_."

It hardly seemed usual to hear Time speak of _fairness_ , either; didn't he take no sides? But there had been the business with the Red Queen; perhaps even Time had his lessons yet to learn?

"You have a point," he admitted, attempting to leap to his feet; and succeeding wonderfully, this time. With _this_ Time. "...And a watch, it seems. What must I do?"

Time looked very satisfied as he stood in turn. "Only one thing. Tell her the answer to your riddle, so she'll know you're not meeting in the palace of dreams."

"But I would know her anywhere. Why wouldn't she know me?" Tarrant frowned. "...Is that the riddle?"

Time rolled his eyes. "Because the unpossible here is more impossible there, of course. And no, it's this: 'Have you any idea why a raven is like a writing desk?'"

"Do you know, I still haven't the faintest idea?" Tarrant blinked. "Does that mean I can't leave here until I learn it?"

"No, because only I have had the Me to learn it. That's how she'll know you were allowed," Time chuckled. "So listen closely: 'Because it can produce a few notes, tho they are very flat; and it is nevar put with the wrong end in front!'"

Nevar? How very clevar! Tarrant grinned in delight; it was all the answer he could have imagined! "And that's all?"

"That's all." Time handed over the watch, grinning in return. "Although I do hope I never see either of _your_ names before Me, again."

"Never say nevar," Tarrant beamed, feeling the reassuring tick against his palm.

Time gestured to the brick path behind him, which suddenly seemed to disappear much farther into the distance than it had just that morning, throwing blue-white sparks in the afternoon light. "Then I suggest you begin at the beginning; and go on until you come to the end," he advised.

The Hatter put one foot on the path, pressing it experimentally against the bricks. "Begin as I mean to go on? Why, what a notion," he said.

He put his other foot on the path next, taking a long stride- and found that carried him forward in a great blur to the square in Witzend. He paused only long enough to wave at his family as they blinked at his appearance in surprise.

"Don't wait up!" he called; "I'm going to find Alice!"

And oh, how marvellous; the journey of a thousand miles really _did_ begin with a single step.

-x-


End file.
